


Side Effects May Include... (2003)

by strawberryelfsp (berreh)



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Crack, First Time, Fluff and Crack, Hurt/Comfort, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, M/M, Medication, Old School
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 01:25:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8125150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berreh/pseuds/strawberryelfsp
Summary: Alone together in a vacation house, Billy is laid up with an injured leg and Dom looks after him. While nursing his best friend, Dom nurses an unrequited crush. Or is it?





	1. Out of My Head

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first long-form lotrips I ever posted, back when I was a wee baby froot. I was painfully young, and it shows. But I have fond memories. :)

Dom chewed thoughtfully on the last untasted pen in the house, trying to think of a seven-letter word for "speechless". His concentration was broken, however, when the flush of the toilet down the hall was followed by a crashing thud and a garbled stream of the word "fuck" in all its major conjugations. Alarmed, Dom dropped his magazine onto the sofa and strode down the hall, peering into the bathroom to find Billy sprawled gracelessly spread-legged on the tile.

"What the hell are you doing out of bed?"

Billy glared up at him and said, "I had to piss," with far too much petulance for someone who was sitting splayed on the floor of a Key West hotel bathroom in nothing but his boxers and a scowl, and lacking the coordination or strength to rectify the situation.

Dom sighed and stooped to grasp Billy around the shoulders and haul him to his feet, ignoring the thoroughly Scottish growl of protest. He looked down at the swathe of bandages around Billy's left calf and saw a bright red splotch seeping outwards from one corner. "Fuck, Billy, you're bleeding again."

Billy shrugged, nearly sending them both crashing over again. "Don't feel it."

Dom grinned as he grabbed a towel with his free hand. "I doubt you feel a bleeding thing, mate. You're high as a fucking kite." Lovely American doctors, he thought, and their lovely American Percocet.

Billy made a noise that vaguely resembled English, and as Dom began to pull him back into the bedroom he slurred testily, "--fuckin _walk_ , man."

"Oh no you don't. I don't know how you got to the loo without breaking your head, but I'm not about to let you bust these stitches and go right back to casualty. Now stop being an arse and get your arm round my shoulder."

Dom shifted his weight and staggered into the bedroom, wondering how one wee Scot could be so heavy. Billy seemed to be making every effort to hinder them, stumbling over his own feet and protesting in a long stream of incoherence that featured the words "let go" and "cunt" in high proportions. His leg wouldn't bear him, and he was leaning so heavily into Dom that Dom could feel the breath on his neck, the slide of bare skin against Dom's shirt and the flutter of Billy's breath on his throat. _Oh no the hell you don't_ , Dom thought, shifting again so Billy's head lolled to the other side, shuddering as that exhaled breath sparked straight down his spine and made a home in his general pelvic region. _Just get him onto the fucking bed, Monaghan._ Bad enough to be stuck in such a bad cliché to begin with -- really now, in love with your best friend? -- but nigh on fucking unbearable when the object of your covert lust was half-naked and half-conscious in your arms, imprinting his sweet little curved lips into the skin of your neck with nary a notion of what he was doing. Dom may have been stoic, but he wasn't a bloody saint. _Percocet,_ his mind repeated. _Percocet, Percocet, Percocet._

Billy flopped down on his back on the bed with a weary groan, and Dom drew back the corner of the bandage and began daubing at it with the towel. "Well, you didn't pop a stitch, so that's good."

Billy scowled at him and said, "Mblee fah."

"I didn't know you could speak Gaelic."

"I said I'm bloody fine, arsehole. Leave me be."

Dom patted the bandage back in place and straightened with a smirk. "You are not 'bloody fine', Billy. You may not feel it just now, but you sliced your leg from knee to ankle on coral this morning, which is why you're doped up like Keith Richards and more Scottish than I have ever seen you. I could tell you a few more things about your attitude, but you won't remember any of this tomorrow, so I'm not going to bother. Now go to sleep, and don't get out of this bed again unless you call me first, yeah?"

Dom leaned over to turn off the lamp. As he reached for the chain, slender fingers curled around his wrist. Dom froze, hesitating a moment before following that arm over to Billy's face. Billy was looking at him with dilated green eyes, lids rolling lazily up and down as he regarded Dom from his pillow. His gaze was unfocused but hard, like he was trying to recall something important, and it unsettled Dom to the point that he swallowed audibly. He intended to pull his hand free but instead he just stood there, stooped over Billy, fingers on the lamp chain and eyes blinking into Billy's incomprehensible stare. Finally, he said, "Go to sleep, Billy."

Billy's lips parted, and his eyelids slid lower till he looked at Dom from under spreading auburn lashes. His other hand spread across his chest, the tip of his forefinger brushing at his collarbone.

"I see the way you look at me, Dom."

 _Percocet_ , declared Dom's brain, in big red flashing lights. _Percocet, Percocet._

"You're not making sense, Bill." Billy was still staring at him, and his thigh muscles squirmed in sudden familiar tension, and it really was just better for all concerned if he turned and left now, thank you. "Get some sleep and I'll bring you some..."

He trailed off as the tip of Billy's tongue emerged and slid slowly over one canine, leaving a glistening trail of moisture along the corner of his upper lip.

_PERCOCET!!_

"Billy..."

"C'mere."

He felt the fingers around his wrist begin to pull, tugging him downward. Don't, don't, do not, he'll be fucking mortified tomorrow and you should be fucking ashamed of yourself so why are you still leaning forward? His mouth was so close to Billy's face that the words raised the tiny fine hairs on his flushed cheeks.

"Billy, you're not--"

"You sure?"

The roll of the 'r' was swallowed as Billy turned his head an inch to the right and Dom's eyebrows shot to his hairline. His froze for a moment, stunned ( _hey, that has seven letters!_ ), and then his eyes closed as he leaned into the kiss and braced one arm on the pillow, twining his fingers in Billy's hair. Billy's mouth was as warm and sweet as his voice, open and enticing and... and... not responding quite as enthusiastically as he had hoped. Not moving much at all, really. Dom's brow creased as he opened his eyes and said around a mouthful of bottom lip, "Bill--?"

He was answered by a soft snore.

Dom drew back, flummoxed, and watched Billy's eyelashes flutter over his sleeping face. The fingers around Dom's wrist didn't move when Dom slid out of their grip and laid Billy's hand on his belly, where it rose and fell in slow rhythm. Dom sat there for a moment, watching him, and then smiled. He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Billy's forehead, lingering over the skin. Then he stood up and moved to find the coverlet.

His gaze traveled down the length of Billy's body and stopped dead when it came upon the one portion which was neither relaxed nor inert. Dom's eyes went perfectly round. Above him, Billy stirred and sighed, and somewhere in the breathy murmur Dom thought he heard his own name. _Oh no you DON'T..._ Dom yanked the coverlet up to Billy's chin, jerked the chain of the lamp, and walked out of the darkened room. At the door he hesitated, then turned back long enough to swipe up the white pharmacy bottle from the nightstand.

Back on the sofa, magazine in hand, he filled in seven letters with his chewed-up pen and tried to avoid looking at the clock on the television. The typed label of the Percocet bottle stared back at him as he waited. Four to six hours, he thought between 21 across and 14 down. Four to six hours.


	2. Four to Six Hours Later

Dom awoke with a start, jerking upright from where he’d been slumped against the arm of the sofa. He looked around, wiping drool off the magazine page that had left a crinkled imprint across his cheek. Something wasn’t right... the sun had set while he slept, and the room had gone dark around him. Squinting up at the clock, Dom saw the bright red numbers flashing 10:36.

“Shit!”

He scrambled to his feet and fisted the sleep from his eyes. 10:36. Billy’s painkillers would’ve worn off about two hours ago. Dom’s eyes fell on the pharmacy bottle on the table and went wide with the memory of how it had gotten there. “Shit,” he repeated, softly, and snatched up the bottle before heading down the hall.

Billy looked up when he came in, and gave a quiet “Oi, Dom.” He sat propped against the headboard, leg cradled on two pillows, and the lamp light made his skin look pale and harsh. His right hand toyed with the TV remote, flicking over and over through the channels, his left hand balled into a fist in the sheets by his side. A fine sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead.

“Jesus, Bill, why didn’t you call me?”

Billy shrugged, and even that subtle movement made him wince.

“They weren’t on the table, and I didn’t want to bother you.”

Dom looked at the bottle in his hand and had a desire to bludgeon himself repeatedly with it. Christ, he’s shaking like a fucking leaf. What were you planning to do? Hold his pills hostage for sexual favors? Classy, Dominic. Classy. He hoped Billy couldn’t see the hot flush rising in his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I was just reading the label. I didn’t mean to fall asleep out there – you should have called. I’ll go get you something to take these with, alright?”

If Billy could hear the uneasiness in Dom’s voice, he gave no sign. He heaved a huge, weary sigh, rubbing his face with both hands, and then looked up at Dom with a face of grumpy distaste. “I don’t want any more pills, Dom.”

He remembers, thought Dom, and he’s so disgusted that he’d rather sit there in fucking agony then let himself be around me like that again. What a selfish prick I am.

“Don’t be daft, I’ll go get you some juice.”

“I said no!” Billy snapped. “Don’t you listen? No more fucking pills! I don’t like not remembering myself, I don’t like sleeping all day, and I don’t like you hanging over me like a fucking nursemaid! If I wanted mothering I’d call my sister!”

Dom’s nerves frayed. “And I’m tired of you trying to be the fucking Highlander when you’re about to keel over any second, refusing to let me help and bitching because you need it! If you don’t want to take the fucking pills tomorrow, fine, but you’re damn well going to take them tonight and get a decent night’s sleep before you _really_ piss me off and become the first person to die from a cut on the leg! And if you whinge anymore about it I’m going to sit on your chest and shove them down your throat while singing ‘Billy Don’t Be a Hero’! Right! Now apple or orange?”

Billy closed his gaping mouth and said, “Pardon?”

“Do you want apple juice or orange juice?”

Billy looked into his lap and fiddled with the sheet. “Apple.”

In the tiny kitchen of the bungalow, Dom poured a glass of apple juice and tried not to laugh. _Wish I had a picture of that face._ His grin faded as his mind worked over Billy’s phrase of “not remembering myself”. What exactly did that mean? _Of course he doesn’t remember. You’re being an idiot, Monaghan. You were imagining things. Or maybe he was thinking about some nurse he saw in hospital. He was dreaming, and so were you. Now knock it off._

Back in the bedroom, Billy took the glass from his hand with an impotent little scowl.

“Dom.”

Dom held out two tiny white pills. “Yes?”

“I’m not a Highlander.” Billy swallowed them with a jerk of his head and drained his glass dry.

Dom watched his Adam’s-apple bob in his throat and said, “I know.”

He reached out for the empty glass, and tried not to react when their fingers touched.

“You want anything to eat? You haven’t eaten all day.”

“Ugh, no. Not hungry.”

“Those pills will hit you hard on an empty stomach—”

“Dom.”

“Sorry.”

Billy shifted on his pillows, grimacing, and Dom furrowed his brow and chewed on his thumb. “Right. Well, I’ll leave you to get some sleep, then. G’night, Bill.” He turned to head for the door.

“Wait.”

He turned to see Billy looking at him apologetically. “I’m not trying to be a hero. It’s just… we’re supposed to be on vacation, and then this shite. I can’t stand being stuck in bed, having to be waited on, and my leg fucking hurts something bloody awful, and I’m about two seconds away from throwing something through that window and crying into my apple juice. I’d like to keep just a tiny amount of my dignity tonight, but would you mind—” He paused, hesitating. “I mean, would you stay in here... for a while... and talk to me, you know, keep me from dwelling on it?”

Dom leaned against the doorframe, mostly because he couldn’t remain upright when Billy looked up at him with his eyes shining like that. Softly, he said, “Of course.”

Billy exhaled, relieved. “Right.” He turned back to the television and flipped through a few channels before looking up to say, “Well, come on then, you gonna stand in the doorway all night? Get in here and distract me.”

“What do you want me to do, a bleedin’ tap dance?”

Billy grinned. “That sounds lovely. Just don’t stand in front of the telly, alright?”

Dom crossed the room and sat down carefully on his own bed, glad now that he had moved it as far as physically possible from Billy’s when they first arrived. Billy watched him fiddle with his bracelets and said, “What the hell’s wrong with you? You can’t even see the TV from that bed. Get over here. Unless you’re still scared I’m gonna beat your arse for that Highlander remark.”

Dom crawled up onto the bed beside Billy, careful to leave as much space between them as the narrow mattress permitted. He leaned back against the headboard and tried to sound casual. “So what’s on?”

Billy, oblivious to Dom’s fingers fidgeting with a pillowcase, began turning through the channels more slowly. _Find something funny,_ Dom pleaded. _Or a documentary or something, keep him talking until he nods off..._

Billy’s finger stopped. “Ah, here we go. You like this movie, don’t you?”

Dom looked at the screen and into the opening credits of Velvet Goldmine.

_Oh, shit._

“Um, I guess, I don’t really—”

“Well I’ve never seen it. Let’s watch it. If you like it, it ought to put me right to sleep.”

Dom pasted on a smile and leaned back, vowing never again to discuss his cinematic tastes.

They sat in silence for some time, Billy’s brow creased as he tried to ignore his leg and get into the movie. After a while he sighed and reached over to turn off the lamp. The TV’s glow flickered across his bare chest as he moved, and Dom clutched the pillow like a life preserver. Billy settled back into his mountain of pillows, shifting to get comfortable.

“So what do you like about this movie?”

Dom scrambled for an answer, something a bit more intelligent than Well, mostly it’s the pretty boys rubbing their shiny parts together, William.

“I like the music a lot, you know. And I, uh, well, the cinematography is quite good, don’t you think? I mean the colors are really—”

Ewan McGregor sauntered onto the stage, and Billy’s mouth curved into a slow smile.

“Ahhh, now it becomes clear.”

Dom could feel his cheeks burning, a condition he hoped was not visible by dim television light.

“Fancy him, do you?”

“Ehm... well...”

Billy watched the lights play over the stage, listening to Ewan’s voice curling out from the cheap hotel TV speakers, and saw Dom fidgeting beside him. His grin widened.

“It’s the accent, isn’t it?”

Billy was smirking at him now with great amusement – clearly he was enjoying Dom’s discomfort, and thinking it due entirely to the discovery of a celebrity crush. Good. Let’s keep it on that one. He managed to grin back.

“Actually it’s the leather trousers, but nice try.”

They both looked back to the screen. “He happens to be a very good actor,” Dom continued. “His range is brilliant, and he has the most expressive face. Amazing talent.”

At that moment, Curt Wyld dropped his leather trousers and freed his amazing talent for all to see. Billy’s laughter echoed in the little room.

“Bastard,” Dom said. He giggled a bit himself, settling back against the headboard, the tense knot between his shoulders starting to loosen. Beside him, Billy had stopped his pained twitching and fidgeting, and now he moved one arm to rest idly behind his head. Dom searched his face. “Feeling better yet?”

Billy nodded, blinking. “Mmm. A little.”

“You like the movie?”

“Yeah. Pills must be working. I’d have to be high to enjoy this shite.”

They watched on in silence, and soon Dom began to lose himself in the movie, his discomfort gone as he shifted on his pillow and tried not to sing along with Jon Rhys-Meyers. Billy sat still beside him as the minutes passed, his body growing more relaxed, and Dom’s tension relaxed with him as he laid his head back against the headboard and felt the colors and the music begin to hum through him the way they always did. This really was one of his favorites. His fidgeting stopped and he blinked in the darkness, enjoying the swirl of sound and vision.

_Make a wish_   
_And see yourself, on stage inside out_   
_A tangle of garlands in your hair_

“I...”

Dom looked at Billy. “What?”

Billy was staring at the screen, the blues and silvers flickering in his eyes, and his voice was so soft Dom could barely it over the tinkling piano soundtrack.

“I said ‘I can’t’. I mean, I wish— I’m not like them, Dom. Not like him.”

Dom’s heart began to pound. “What do you mean?”

“Look at them. They’re so…” Billy’s eyes blinked slowly, fixed on the pale blue light that gleamed in the black of his pupils. “They’re beautiful. I’m not, not like that. He shines, Dom. Look at them. They shine.”

The words were out before he could stop them. “You shine, Billy.”

Billy turned then, and stared at Dom for a long moment. “I...” he began, and then his eyes closed and he let out a little sigh. “I think I should’ve eaten something.”

Dom sat up, getting an arm around Billy’s shoulder to steady him. “Come on, mate, let’s get you lying down proper.” He took up Billy’s weight and let him sink down onto his back, adjusting pillows until he stretched out straight with a long sigh.

“Alright?”

Billy made a mumbled sound that Dom had come to identify as ‘yes’, rubbing at his eyes before settling into the pillows. Dom smiled as he picked up the remote and moved to scoot off the bed and make a discreet exit. He froze when he felt a familiar set of fingers brush against his arm. Billy looked up at Dom leaning over him and blinked sleepily.

“Stay?”

The flickering glow from the television skipped across the planes of his face and chest, changing the angles and shadows on his cheeks and his chin and his eyes. Dom leaned over him, weight on one arm, and his lips parted a little as he nodded. His free hand reached over to smooth the hair back from Billy’s forehead.

“I’ll stay. Go to sleep, Billy.”

Billy’s brow creased as if he were going to say something else, but his bleary eyes grew more tired as Dom watched him. Finally, he gave up and turned his head into the pillow, murmuring something before his eyes closed and he fell fast asleep.

Dom lay there and looked at him, the sharp temptation of the afternoon melting into a warmer sort of ache which was somehow a thousand times worse. On the screen, Curt and Brian stood forehead to forehead. Swallowing a lump in his throat, Dom pushed the mute button on the remote but left the picture on, unwilling to cut off the pale blue glow from Billy’s face and the slow rise and fall of his chest.

_The curves of your lips rewrite history._

“You,” he said softly, “are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

And then he stretched out onto his side, careful of Billy’s leg, curling against Billy’s ribs and resting his head on one bare shoulder. He could feel the slow rush of Billy’s breath in his hair as he closed his eyes and watched the dim light shimmer through his eyelids until he fell asleep.


	3. ...And Call Me in the Morning

"Dom."

Now here was a dream he’d had many times. Billy’s voice in low stereo, breathing softly into one upturned ear and humming deep in the chest below his other. As warm as the sheets tangled amongst their legs, and as thick as the sleep still humming in his mind. Dom sighed and snuggled closer to that voice, flexing the arm that lay across warm soft flesh. One of his favorite dreams.

"Dom."

Of course, Dom’s dreams usually involved rather nice visuals, and all he could see right now were the insides of his eyelids. And in his dreams, when he pressed his sleeping half-erection into the thigh wedged between his own, the resulting call of his name usually did not have that tone of quiet amusement. But if he wasn’t dreaming, then...

"Dom, wake up."

Oh, _shit_.

Dom’s eyes snapped open, and he raised his head to look blearily up into a twinkling pair of green eyes.

"Comfortable?"

Dom’s mouth opened. "Ehm..."

Billy’s lip curled in in a wry smile.

"Aye well it’s good to know I make such a good pillow. Remind me to get to the gym next week."

At this point Dom became fully and painfully aware of his precise entanglement, from the chest hair tickling his nose to the ankle that fitted so snugly into the curve of his bare foot. He waited for Billy to laugh, to jerk and push him away with faux disgust and a wisecrack, but Billy merely smiled at him, amused at Dom’s sleep-cluttered speechlessness. It was then that he became aware of the hand resting lightly on his back and the toe brushing the sole of his foot. Dom knew it was imperative that he move in the very near future, or not even his Levi’s would save him from the humiliation of a raging hard-on playing bumper cars with the thigh wedged firmly beneath his leg, covered only in dangerously thin cotton. Moving was definitely necessary, and Billy was sure to pitch him off any moment, but neither of them moved and long seconds ticked by.

"Did, uh, did you sleep well?"

Christ, you’re on a roll, Monaghan. Brilliant.

"Yeah, I did, actually."

"Oh, that’s good."

Well this is the stuff romance novels are made of. Just close your mouth.

Billy stifled a yawn. "Unfortunately, I believe I went a bit heavy on the apple juice." Seeing Dom’s brow crease, he added, "I need to piss, Dominic. Get off me."

"Oh!" Dom shook himself and rolled off Billy’s chest. When he pulled his foot back into his own personal space, he suddenly realized which of Billy’s legs had been pressed between his own.

"Jesus, Bill, your leg! I’m sorry, I didn’t—"

Billy shook his head, still smiling, but as he pulled himself up into a sitting position he pressed his lips together in concealed pain. "It’s fine, Dom. It’s not bad— I mean, aye, it’s bad, but I’ll live. The worst bit is past, I think. You’ve got some Panadol in your bag, right? I think I can switch to that." His grin turned wicked as he added, "Unless you’d like to keep me in my state for a bit longer."

Dom stared at that grin, blinking. Oh my God, is he fucking flirting with me? That last sentence echoed in his brain. _Mah steht_ , repeated the morning-thick accent. _Mah steht._

"Panadol," Dom said.

He dragged himself from the bed, coming round to offer Billy an arm and help haul him to his feet. It was much easier this time around, what with Billy being alert and sober and not half-gone and breathing moist heat onto his neck, and the very comparison made Dom clear his throat and find many interesting things to look at on the other side of the room. He only needed to walk beside Billy to take the weight off the injured leg, and when they got to the loo Billy clapped him on the shoulder with a casual "thanks, mate" and hopped inside, closing the door behind him.

Dom leaned against the door, letting his head hit the wood with a loud thunk. _Get it the fuck together, Monaghan. You’re acting like a teenager. He’s said shit like that to you hundreds of times, and you’ve done the same. The Dom and Billy show, remember? It doesn’t mean a thing._ He let out a long sigh, punctuating his thoughts with sharp knocks of his skull on the door. _Just. Knock. It. Off._

From inside the bathroom came Billy’s muffled voice. "I’m going as fast as I can here, Dom."

Dom flinched. "Oh, uh, sorry."

He shuffled into the kitchen and poured a glass of apple juice, wishing blearily that they hadn’t finished the whisky the other day because he really needed a drink, early morning be damned. He was back in the bedroom setting the glass on the nightstand in the bedroom when he heard the toilet flush and the faucet turn on and off. Hurrying to meet Billy, Dom gave him an arm and helped him make the trip back to bed.

Billy sat down, feet on the floor, and sipped his juice while Dom dug through his luggage until he found the bottle of Panadol he’d brought with him from home. Billy downed two and finished the rest of the juice.

"Thanks, Dom," he said.

"Welcome, Bill," Dom replied.

He moved away to close the bottle and set it on the nightstand. Beside him Billy remarked, "I’m glad I don’t need to take that bloody Percocet anymore. I didn’t like what it did to me at all."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Gave me some damn bizarre dreams. Some of them involving that awful movie you forced upon me in my helpless condition."

Dom chuckled. "Ah no, my lad, you asked for that one. On your own head be it." He left the bottle on the nightstand next to the empty juice glass and squatted down near Billy’s bandaged calf. "Come on," he said, grasping the ankle carefully, and Billy scooted back and let Dom set his injured leg on a pillow.

"And I told you you ought to eat something," Dom continued. "I take no responsibility for what you dreamt."

"I dreamt about you," Billy said.

Dom’s hand froze on Billy’s shin. He looked up at Billy, heart pounding. He suddenly felt like the distance between their bodies had decreased significantly. He swallowed. "Did you?"

"I dreamt that you kissed me."

Dom lost his balance and sat down, hitting the floor with a loud thwack. Billy showed no reaction, merely watched him. And for the first time in his life, Dominic Monaghan had absolutely nothing to say.

"But that didn’t happen, of course,” Billy said.

Dom’s breath escaped him in an explosive sigh of relief that he forced into a laugh. "Of course not."

"I kissed _you_."

Dom’s eyes went wide. Billy’s hand on his shoulder made him flinch, and he gasped as Billy’s fingers closed in his t-shirt, pulling him closer.

"C’mere," Billy said, completely lucid, and snapped Dom’s fear in a single quiet syllable.

Dom leaned forward, bracing an arm over Billy’s thigh as he leaned in between parted knees and slid his hand into sleep-spiked hair. Billy’s mouth tasted like apple juice, sharp and sweet, and Dom shivered and sucked at the clinging drops before he could stop himself.

Billy’s hand flexed on his back, and this time his response was decidedly closer to the things Dom imagined in his dreams. A small sound escaped him as his tongue found Dom’s mouth, and Dom curled his fingers in Billy’s hair and kissed him until they both ran out of breath.

He pulled back at last, trembling, his mouth wet and his eyes huge and staring. Billy’s chest was heaving, face flushed and lips wet, but his eyes were shining softly.

"Why didn’t you tell me, Dom?"

"Why didn’t you tell me?"

Billy’s eyes dropped. "I did,” he said. “Or I tried.”

"Billy..." Dom moved forward, knees bumping the floor, straining denim pressing into the mattress and both hands twining in Billy’s hair. Billy spread his thighs to accommodate him, and this time it was Dom’s turn to sigh into Billy’s mouth. When he pulled back again to catch his breath before Round Three, his eyes abruptly landed on the flushed and twitching evidence of Billy’s requital, poorly concealed by pale blue cotton. He remembered the previous night, and giggled out loud.

Billy raised an eyebrow. "Something funny?"

Dom stifled his mirth. "Huh-uh. No."

"Look, Dom, I don’t know what sort of encounters you’re used to, but I generally take it as a bad sign when someone looks at my erection and bursts into laughter. Now I—"

Dom choked on a giggle and smiled at Billy’s scowl as he bent forward once more. His hand ran down Billy’s chest as he leaned in and whispered against his ear, "Aww, c’mon now, Billiieee..." flipping the L with a flick of his tongue across the lobe.

"I don’t know, Dom. I just don’t think I can get my mood back, not if you—aahhh—ah God..."

His voice skittered off into random vowels as Dom’s fingers closed around him. Dom smiled against his neck and squeezed, just enough to be rewarded with a yelp and a jerking buck of the hips.

"If I what?"

"If you keep doing that I may be able to forgive you. In time."

"Mmmm." Dom’s teeth closed just behind Billy’s ear at the same moment his hand drew up and down once, slow and smooth, all the way to the base where he stopped and held tight. He felt the flesh beneath him shake, felt Billy tense and clutch at his back. Dom spoke around a mouthful of earlobe. "How about now?"

"Not—unhh—not sure. Take off your shirt before I change my mind."

Dom grinned, leaning back to pull his shirt over his head and toss it to the floor behind him. He saw Billy’s eyes run up and down him once, and he struck a pose.

"Still want me to distract you?"

Billy’s eyes lit up. "You gonna tap-dance after all?"

Dom scowled. "Bastard."

Billy shifted his weight, and pain flickered across his face as his leg twitched on the pillow. Dom frowned.

"You alright? You want to stop?"

"I want," Billy said, "for you to put your fucking hands on me again."

Dom’s thighs squirmed. "Jesus..."

He braced his left arm on the headboard, curving it to cradle Billy’s head, and wrapped his right hand into a tight grip once more. The sound Billy gave made Dom’s hips press against the mattress and he buried his face in Billy’s neck, tasting salt, tasting Billy, and shivering with every moan that vibrated in Billy’s throat. He could feel the broad muscle of Billy’s thigh clenching in rhythm with his hips, hips that were now moving in time with Dom’s hand, a slowly increasing rhythm, and he flicked his thumb over moisture-slick skin while his free hand clutched a handful of blond-streaked spikes. Billy jerked violently, and his groans became vague repeated words, mostly calling on God and varieties of Dom’s name.

Dom became aware that Billy’s breathing had grown ragged, and a pang of alarm sparked in his chest. Billy was not in top form by any means, and had not eaten in over 24 hours – not to mention having lost a good deal of blood, the rest of which was now concentrated in one specific area. He pulled back a bit, peering into Billy’s face. His rhythm faltered, and Billy’s brow creased in pleading; his back arched and he pushed up into Dom’s grip, gasping, "No, don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop now..."

Dom held him, bearing both their weight, pressing his forehead to Billy’s as the heat and sweat began to rise between them. He watched Billy’s face, whispered his name, an unending loop mumbled over the curves of Billy’s lips. But while he held Billy gently his right hand increased its intensity, harder and faster, and he could feel it before he could see it but he opened his eyes wide to watch Billy’s face as he arched and dug his nails into Dom’s sweat-slick back, long waves of warmth over Dom’s fingers, shuddering until he collapsed flushed and panting against the headboard and the echo of his voice rang in Dom’s ears.

After a moment, when he felt Billy’s heartbeat begin to slow, Dom eased back and smiled into sated, gleaming green eyes.

"Alright? Not gonna die on me, are you?"

Billy’s mouth quirked. "You’re not that good, mate."

"And with remarks like that, you will never find out," snapped Dom, scowling.

Billy chuckled, trying catching his breath while Dom drew back, absently scrubbing his hand on the bedsheet.

"Hey, I have to sleep here, you know," said Billy.

"That’s why there’s two beds," replied Dom. "One for sleeping, and one for distracting." He moved to stand up, wobbly and out of breath, his abused knees protesting loudly. Billy grasped his wrist with one hand – _and just how many times has he done that now?_ – and his face flushed a little pinker.

"But… what about you?"

Dom shrugged. "It’s— I mean, later, if you want— I mean—" _And the astounding Monaghan wit returns._

Billy smiled softly. "What I want." His face went vague, as if he were remembering a half-faded dream. Dom watched him, his throat constricting with things he’d been holding back for so long, things tumbling from him now faster than he could stop them. His blood hummed with the rush of possibilities, the giddy joy of doors in his mind faster than he could process them. But before his feelings could well up and spew out all over them both, Billy’s smirk returned and he stretched languidly on the bed.

"What I want, Dommie, is for you to make me breakfast."

Dom’s eyebrows shot up. "Oh hell no! You didn’t want a ‘fucking nursemaid’, remember? No waiting on you, no mothering? Why don’t you call your sister? Because I’m not cooking shit."

Billy pouted. "Not even for the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?"

Dom turned twelve shades of crimson before he found the voice to hiss, "Oh, you _bastard_."

He turned and stomped from the room to the sound of Billy’s laughter, into the kitchen where he began rattling pots and pans as loudly as possible. He was smiling now, and he barely contained his laughter as he checked the little bungalow’s kitchen for breakfast supplies.

From the bedroom he heard a call of, "Dom?"

"Yes, bastard?"

"Wash your hands first."


End file.
